Never Alone
by MarieQuiteContrarie
Summary: "I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified."


"Tongue of lizard, heart of bluebird, foot of Belle…" Rumplestiltskin stopped short, his tongue tripping over the incantation and ruining the potion in the process.

"Hellfire and damnation!" Dismayed, he watched a boiling mass of greenish-grey goo spill over the edge of the cauldron and ooze through his fingers.

A simple chant cleaned up the mess, but the Hatter was waiting for this potion and he still had to begin again. It was all her fault.

Rumplestiltskin flexed his stiff fingers. Belle's disquiet over the past several hours had paralyzed his body and brain. The sound of her pacing outside the barricaded door was an ominous drumbeat in his heart, her low, square heels echoing on the stones. Even his old limp from the first ogre's war, long since repaired by magic, throbbed in time to her labored sighs.

Aye, she had finally made up her mind to leave him. A deal was a deal, and she had sworn forever, but he could no longer bear to keep her here against her will. It was long past time to grant her freedom, send her off to see the world. As for him, he'd lived nigh two hundred years in abject misery, so what was a few millennia more?

"Belle!" he bellowed, releasing the wards on the laboratory. "Get it in here!"

"Yes, Rumplestiltskin?" Frowning, she slipped through the open door. "I would have come in sooner, but the door has been locked all day."

He treated her to a black scowl. It was the third time he'd botched the spell due to his carelessness, and he was down to his last bit of smoked eel roe. Dark circles wreathed Belle's eyes and he almost dropped what remained. "What are you moping about?"

"Nothing." Her cheeks were wan and slightly sunken.

He snorted at the obvious lie, but his heart hiccupped, sharp and painful . Was she unwell? He steeled himself against a flood of concern. If she was, it was no longer his affair. Still, she was the lone ray of sunshine in his empty world. He would miss her more than he could possibly say.

"If you truly want to know…" she began.

He shook a finger in her direction. "Hurry up then!"

"Because you did ask…."

"Aye, I did," he snapped when she trailed off again, "and I've lived another two centuries waiting for you to answer."

"Rumplestiltskin, would you please stop interrupting?" An noise of exasperation slipped through her lips, and she stomped her small foot.

Ordinarily, her sass amused him, but this evening he was snappish and wary. He scanned the skyline, wondering if she would leave tonight or at least wait until morning. Perhaps she had already packed her belongings.

"As you wish." He winced, waiting for the killing blow.

"I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified." She blew out a noisy breath at the hurried confession, sending wisps of hair flying about her face.

What?

Baffled, he stared at her flushed cheeks. Of all the words he had expected her to say, these were the very last. "Are you speaking fae, maid?"

Her brow furrowed, considering. "I don't think so."

He leaned forward to sniff her sweet breath, fighting the need to close his eyes. "You've been drinking."

"Only water and sweetened tea." Her smile was tentative, and growing wider by the moment.

"You've ingested something foul," he insisted. "A bite of bad beef; a moldy pastry."

"No." She twisted her fingers together, still hovering in the doorway. "I've been too nervous to eat."

"Ah. Well." He cast about for an explanation. "This, uh, feeling you say you have…for how long have you been imagining it?"

"It's not my imagination." She stepped closer, laying soft fingers on his hand. "And a while."

"Hmmmph." He shook his sleeve out of her grasp. "You don't look terrified."

"Of you? Never." She shook her head hard enough to make her auburn curls bounce.

"Then why did you say you were?"

He followed her sightline to a small family of mice darting in and out of a hole in the tower wall. In the fading sunlight, their tiny bodies cast ominous shapes across the stones. Finally she spoke. "I am frightened, in a manner of speaking."

"Ha!" He affected a triumphant pose. "I knew it."

"Yes." She leaned against his worktable and tugged on her work apron. "I'm afraid that you'll laugh at me."

Her lustrous blue eyes tugged at his heart, creating a dull ache beneath his breastbone. "I should laugh," he said hoarsely. "These womanly feelings you have for a monster are foolish indeed."

"You certainly know how to ease the torment of an admission of love, don't you?" she asked, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

He carefully searched her face and tone for irony, but darkness shadowed her skin now that the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon. With a wave of his hand, he lit a dozen candelabras, bathing the room in soft light.

"Fine," he huffed, deciding to humor her innocence. "Assuming you're not concussed, what makes you think you love the Dark One?"

"I don't love the Dark One. I love you, Rumplestiltskin."

"Same difference, dearie."

"No, it's not." She crossed her arms over her chest. "And please don't talk to me that way."

"What way?" He mimicked her voice in a high trill.

"As though I am a stranger you must posture for," she scolded, a thread of humor in her tone. "Names have power and you know mine, so use it."

A bittersweet craving washed through him. Belle. Darling, cheeky, wonderful Belle. "What can you know of love?"

"Well, I know I'm happy when you're here, and sad when you're away. I know I feel more at ease and at home here than I ever did at my father's estate. And," she stammered, drawing her appreciative gaze down the length of his body, "I know-I like to look at you in those tight leathers you're so fond of."

"Ahem." His cheeks grew hot, a mingling of embarrassment and a craving for something so long buried he barely recognized it. Sensible people recoiled from his appearance, but not Belle. She had to be the only sentient being in the Enchanted Forest who admired him for anything more than what she could gain from his power.

She shrugged. "It's true. Besides, you wouldn't wear such form-hugging trousers if you didn't want anyone to admire the view."

"And if I laugh at your declaration, what then?" He lifted a potion, examining the sapphire liquid in the flickering candlelight. "Would you reconsider your foolishness?"

"My heart would be carved into slivers," she whispered.

He nearly dropped the vial, undone by the naked vulnerability in her gaze. As if such a shining and lovely innocent would suffer any loss by being removed from his presence!

"People will say I bewitched you," he warned. In this land, for a young woman to ignore her reputation was to her greatest peril. He bared his teeth in a feral snarl. "Doesn't that terrify you?" he asked, tossing her words back.

Her sniff was disdainful. "I care nothing about rumors and idle gossip."

"Indeed?" His protests were weakening, the citadel around his heart crumbling. He shelved the potion, then shuffled backwards until his calves bumped the chaise lounge. At a loss for words, he sank down on the cushion.

Belle sidled closer, stepping between his spread thighs. "Do you know what does terrify me?"

Breathless, he shook his head as her gaze bored into his. She bent down to caress his cheek, palming his jaw. "That you won't love me in return."

His eyes drifted closed and before he knew what was happening, her slight weight was resting in his lap. She settled her bottom on his legs and twined her arms about his neck. She was soft and sweet, her light honeysuckle fragrance enveloping him in safety and warmth.

"Belle, I—"

"Why did you lock the door on me?" she murmured. "Your tea has gone cold three times."

Embarrassed by his childishness, he looked toward the windows. "I'd convinced myself I didn't want to hear anything you had to say."

"And now?" She scooted up his thighs to nuzzle his neck, making his skin prickle.

He snorted, clinging to the dregs of his stubbornness. "If you wanted to come inside so badly, why didn't you knock?"

Her eyes danced with amusement. "You were hollering so loudly, you didn't hear me call. My fists hurt from pounding on the door." She presented her knuckles, which were mottled by black and blue marks.

"Oh." Unthinking, he pressed her fingers to his mouth. A purple sheen coated her skin as he healed the bruises and scrapes with his lips.

"Thank you," she whispered, then lay her head against his chest. His arms hung stiffly at his sides and she clasped first one wrist, then the other to draw his arms around her, arranging his limbs like a mannequin. "What did you think I was going to say?" she asked.

He splayed his fingers over her back, and closed his eyes. The relief of being hidden from her shrewd gaze made him bold. "I believed you would request your freedom. It's what you deserve, and despite our deal, I would never prevent you from forging your own destiny."

The slender arms around his neck tightened. "If I went away, we would both be lonely."

He laughed, low and mirthless. "You? No. Belle, you have your family, your friends, and your fiancé. And what of your plans to see the world?"

"Can't I see the world with you?"

"Why would you want that?" he asked dully, his palms still stroking her back. "What can I possibly offer you?"

"Belonging." She eased back on his thighs, her expression thoughtful. "Have you never been in a place filled with people yet felt utterly alone? All my life I've been surrounded by others—parents, servants, peers. But they didn't know the real me…this odd, bookish girl…and so the ache of loneliness remained. Here with you, for the first time someone understands and loves me for me, not because I fulfill some expectation by learning to run an estate or marrying a certain man."

With a small groan, he pressed her close once more, an embrace of solidarity. For as long as he could remember, he'd believed he was the only person who felt alone in a crowd.

She lifted her face to his, a hint of fear flecking her irises. "You do love me, don't you?"

"Aye." He buried his nose in her tumble of curls, inhaling her essence. He loved her mind, her body, the way she thought, the things she said. He loved her so much it was a physical ache, a rawness in his spirit that would be satisfied with nothing but her.

"Rumple, I don't want to be alone anymore."

"Oh Belle," he choked. Before his disbelieving eyes, she was gathering up the pieces of a dream he'd thought was shattered. "Is this really what you want?"

"Yes."

Yes. There was an eternity of promise in that one small word. She needed him, just as he did her, and his heart exploded with a joy he hadn't known since the birth of his son. He cupped her cheeks with his hands, massaging her pulse point with his thumbs as he lowered his mouth to hers, so close that only their mingled breaths lay between them.

"Then I will never leave you alone again."

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End file.
